“’Night, Lia.” He held the door for her and closed it after she had climbed into her car. Lia silently wished him well as she drove off and left him standing in the nearly empty parking lot.
I’m sorry I fucked up your evening, sunshine. The message came about half an hour after Lia got home from her date. She stared at the screen and all she felt was a weird relief that he hadn’t yet deleted her number from his phone.
You didn’t.
I did. I shouldn’t have interfered. She read the message a couple of times, and a few minutes elapsed before she responded.
I’m sorry my date flirted with you. Her phone rang thirty seconds later, and his name popped onto the screen. She accepted the call immediately.
“Brand?”
“The guy was a dick. He shouldn’t have gone out with you and flirted with other people,” he said, his gravelly voice thick with annoyance.
“You knew, didn’t you? That’s why you invited us to sit at the table.”
“I didn’t like that he was playing you. It pissed me off.”
“I think it’s really sad that he feels like he has to pretend to be something he’s not.”
“Yeah, well, he can fucking pretend with someone else.” Why did he sound so indignant about something that had no direct effect on him?
“Well, no harm done,” Lia said, her voice deliberately light. “Part and parcel of being lost in the dating wilderness again.”
“So this wasn’t a one-off thing? You’re definitely dating again?”
“I know I must seem like an indecisive idiot.”
“No. Just hopeful.” His voice was heartbreakingly gentle. “I’m glad you haven’t given up on that hope, Lia.”
“I feel so stupid,” she admitted softly. “I keep putting myself out there and then this.”
“How are you meeting these guys?” he asked curiously, and she drew in a huge breath as she tried to settle her erratic emotions and concentrate on answering his question.
“Well, Michael was obviously through Mrs. Kendrick, and Gregory is my friend Tilda’s brother’s colleague.”
“So you have a network of connections? Like an analog dating site?”
“More like an old-fashioned matchmaking ring,” she corrected with a laugh. “And it’s safer than online dating, because murdering me would mean they’d have to murder the friend who set us up, too, in order to cover up the crime.”
“Jesus, that’s fucking grim. Don’t talk like that.” He sounded genuinely freaked out, and she laughed again, more heartily this time.
“I’ll be perfectly safe, Brand. You don’t have to worry.”
“Do you have your next date set up already?”
“Of course not. How awful would that be? Like I was anticipating failure with Michael before even going on a first date with him. I’m not that pessimistic.”
“It’s good to plan ahead.”
“No, this is stressful enough without thinking about more than one date simultaneously. I prefer taking it one guy at a time. It feels less cold-blooded.”
“You’re dangerously naïve, sunshine.”
“And you’re hopelessly cynical, Brand.”
“Will you let me know when you go on your next date?” he asked, not responding to her statement. She snorted in answer to his question.
“Of course not. And have you show up at all of my dates like some overprotective father figure? I don’t think so! I already have a dad, and he trusts me to make the right decisions.” That was true, even though she had often failed in her decision making. Her father—both her parents, really—remained supportive.
“I just want you to be safe. Look, I know we’re not flinging anymore, but I did promise you I’d help you find your man, remember?”
“I remember. I also remember telling you that the thought of an arrangement like that made me uncomfortable.”
“Yeah, but only because we were fucking.”
“Brand, you’re not going to be my Mr. Matchmaker, okay?” she said in her most no-nonsense voice. “I told you before . . . you don’t get to play this role in my life. I don’t need you to be my hero.”
“Lia?”
“Yes?”
“Will you come over?” His voice was gruff, and Lia sighed and shook her head.
“No.” She hung up without saying good night.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Brand was at the animal shelter the following morning when she stopped by. Which led her to conclude that he’d changed his usual visiting time to coincide with hers. He was with Trevor, as usual. According to Siphiso, the dog had started taking treats from Brand. Not every time, but he would venture forward with every third offer or so. It was slow going, but it was definite progress, which meant that Trevor was now a viable contender for rehabilitation and no longer an immediate candidate for euthanasia.
Lia ran into Brand when she was visiting the rehab dogs. He was sitting inside Trevor’s pen, animatedly chatting with the dog. Lia’s heart leapt in fear at the sight of him sitting inside the cage.
“Are you sure that’s safe?” she asked without any preliminaries. Brand’s face lit up when he saw her.
“Hey, sunshine. I was just talking about you.”
She chose to ignore that, keeping her eyes glued on Trevor. The dog’s head and ears were down, and he was staring at her warily.
“Should you be in there? He has a history of aggression.”
“Somebody has to take the first step and trust him. He was just scared before. He’s a pretty mellow guy. Aren’t you, Tyson?”
“Do the handlers know that you’re in here?”
“Siphiso knows, he stayed for a while and observed. He left a couple of minutes ago. It’s sweet that you’re worried about me, sunshine.”
“I’d worry about anybody foolish enough to expose themselves to a potentially dangerous animal.”
“Danger is my middle name,” he joked. And she shook her head.
“I’m all too aware of that,” she said quietly. “But if he acts out toward you, it’s a strike against him, and the more strikes he has, the more likely he is to be put down.”
Brand paled and glanced at the dog.
“Don’t say stuff like that in front of him. You’ll scare him. I’m pretty fucking terrified myself—I didn’t know what the stakes were.”
“How could you not? What do you think happens to the animals who can’t find homes? Space and resources are limited, Brand.”
“That’s barbaric,” he growled. His obvious agitation was starting to upset the dog, and he got up carefully and stepped out of the pen. He took Lia’s elbow and led her farther down the corridor.
“If it makes you feel better, your interactions with Trevor have been a lifeline for the dog. I’ve just heard that they’re reevaluating his rehabilitation potential,” Lia said, gentling her tone.
“He’s a great dog,” Brand said, looking relieved. “I’m glad he’ll have the opportunity to prove that.”
Lia tilted her head and ran her eyes over his disheveled form. He was wearing a pair of baggy running shorts that ended just above his knees, along with a T-shirt that looked damp in spots. His hair was also darkened—from water or sweat, she wasn’t sure which.
“How did you get here?” she asked curiously.
“Well, since I find myself without transportation lately, I started running again,” he said with a grin, the grooves in his cheeks deepening wickedly.
“You jogged here,” she repeated flatly.
“Nah, jogging is for pussies, I run. But it kind of wiped me out. It felt farther than it probably was. Which probably means I’m the pussy now.”
“Possibly because you’re still recovering?”
“I can’t keep using that whole recovery thing as an excuse not to get back into shape.” He shrugged.
“You planning to run home?”
“When I get my wind back,” he said, resting his hands on his hips.
Lia sighed. “I’m leavin
g in ten minutes, after I’ve visited my golden oldies. If you want a ride, be ready at that time.”
“Cool, I’ll hang out with Figaro a bit longer, then.”
“Figaro? Seriously?”
“What? I know all kinds of cultural and classy shit. My mom dragged me to countless operas when she found herself between boyfriends, husbands, or toy boys.”
“Your mother has toy boys?”
“Yeah, her current plaything is twenty-seven. Dumb as a bag of rocks, poor guy. And she’ll probably be on to her next young gun by the time I see her again.”
“How does that make you feel?” Lia asked, despite herself. Then reminded herself that they weren’t flinging anymore, so maybe it was okay to ask him personal questions now?
“As long as she’s happy, I have no beef with it. She gave up on the whole marriage thing after her fifth husband and tried dating for a while, but that didn’t work out, either. So she has her man, or boy, as it were, of the moment. Which seems to be working out well for her. It’s not harming anyone. If I thought they were taking advantage of her, I’d step in, but most of these guys are really, really lacking in the intellect department. And wouldn’t know how to mastermind a scheme to deprive her of her money if their lives depended on it. Mom’s not really interested in their brains, if you know what I mean. They offer a laugh and some companionship.”
“And she’s happy?”
“Happy enough.” Lia frowned as she considered the information. The notion of having a series of sex-only relationships, like the one she’d had with Brand, was not at all appealing to her, and she couldn’t fathom living her life going from one meaningless sexual encounter to the next.
It gave her some insight into Sam Brand, though. He’d grown up with a mother who went from one relationship to the next. No wonder he thought permanent relationships were a waste of time. He’d never seen one that worked.
“Why are you staring at me like that?” he asked suddenly, and Lia blinked.
“Like what?”
“I don’t know, like that. Like you’re trying to figure something out.”
“I’m not. I was just wondering what it was like growing up like that. Did you have a stable father figure in your life?”
“Aside from my actual father, you mean?” he asked mockingly, and Lia’s eyes widened.
“Oh, I didn’t know—”
“What, that I have a dad? Of course I do. Joseph Joshua Brand, JJ to his mates. Great guy. Gets along with everybody. Awesome dad . . . to his three kids from his second marriage. Me, I get to see him once a year . . . if that. I spent the occasional school holiday with him when I was a kid. Trying to fit in with his other family. God, my half brothers are stuck so far up their own arses, I’ll be shocked if they even know what the sun looks like.”
“Is he still with his second wife?”
“Oh yes, they’re full on into the happy family thing. Married for twenty-seven years and going strong. Rita, my stepmother, is quite nice. Hard to believe she bred such douchebags.”
“You preferred your mother’s lifestyle to your father’s stable home life?”
“Lifestyle?” He raised his brows at the word, and Lia flushed, recognizing how unintentionally judgmental her use of the word sounded.
“I mean . . .”
“My mother is a warm, loving woman. I never lacked for anything, especially not love. Which, I’m sure you will agree, is the key ingredient to any happy family.”
“Yes, of course. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend.”
“Not everybody has the same overwhelming drive to marry and have kids that you do, Lia. Some of us are actually quite happy to never go anywhere near the outdated institution of marriage.”
“You don’t think your parents’ divorce or your mother’s serial partners have contributed toward this belief?” She winced at her own question—she could perhaps have phrased it a bit more tactfully. But Brand surprised her by laughing heartily.
“God no, I would never look to my mother as any kind of model example when it comes to relationships. She’s an unapologetic train wreck at romance. I have known many happily married couples; my dad and Rita, my grandparents—on both sides, all sadly passed on now—friends, even my douchey half brothers, who have somehow managed to find awesome women willing to marry them, all happily married for years. I’m quite familiar with what marital bliss looks like. I just don’t want that for myself. I’m not willing to give up my work or my freedom for any woman.”
“And you don’t want children?”
“I’m too fucking selfish. My entire life would have to revolve around them, wouldn’t it? Around their wants and needs. I can’t imagine that. I like doing my own thing too much.”
Lia was aware that she was staring at him again, but she couldn’t help it. Daff had once held the same life philosophy, but her sister’s adamant anti-marriage stance had definitely hidden some pretty deep-rooted insecurities. Sam Brand didn’t look like a man with insecurities. He looked like a man who knew exactly what he wanted from life, and a wife and family were most definitely not in the cards.
“Um. Okay, so ten minutes?” she reminded. The interesting exchange had revealed so much more about Brand than she had learned over the course of the last week. She needed time to process.
“Yeah. See you then.” He nodded, his eyes already back on Trevor.
“Stay?” Sam knew he was pushing it asking her to stay, but she was tempted, he could see it in her eyes. She opened her mouth to speak, then thought the better of it. Her eyes met his mutely for a long moment before she shook her head.
“You know I won’t.” He didn’t push her, merely nodded.
“Are you okay?” he asked. “After last night?”
“Completely over it,” she said with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“Do you have another date lined up?”
“Not going to tell you that, Brand,” she said, and it frustrated the hell out of him that she could be meeting some potential creep show tonight and he had no clue where she would be or with whom.
“Come on, sunshine. I just want you to be safe.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“So you do have a date?” She laughed, genuine amusement in the sound. It ended on that adorable little snort.
“Stop asking, Brand.”
“Will you call me? If you need help?” Another snort laugh.
“You don’t have a car,” she pointed out. “I’ll call Mason. Or Spencer.”
He swore beneath his breath, feeling completely useless and incapable of defending her if she needed him.
“Call me anyway, okay? I’ll see you around, sunshine.”
“Take care, Brand.” After hearing her use his first name the other day, he was desperate for her to say it again. But disappointingly, she’d stuck with Brand since then. He wanted to ask her to call him Sam but wasn’t sure how that would go over with her. She was such a prickly thing, with her weird rules and hang-ups about everything.
He moved into the cabin, still bothered by her infuriating stubbornness, rotating the shoulder and wrist on his weak arm. He had an appointment with a physiotherapist early next week and would have to arrange for a car or a driving service to take him to Knysna. He was delaying the task because he hoped to convince Lia to drive him. But now he wondered if he should keep a car on standby every day in case she needed him.
He missed her. Not only her presence in his bed, but her companionship as well. And that despite her adamant insistence that they not have a decent conversation. He had fucked up badly with her, handled a delicate situation tactlessly. It had been misguided and pointless to lie about his relationship with Lally in the first place, and he sorely regretted it now. Especially since it had cost him his fling, or whatever the fuck it was, with Lia.
He had a long, hot shower, trying to work the kinks out of his aching body. He shouldn’t have pushed as hard as he did today. But he was impatient to get back to normal, back to
his life and his work. This place and its overly friendly people were starting to mess with his brain. All his interactions with Lia, as an example, had been way more intense than anything he would normally have with a woman. For a brief insane moment, this afternoon, he’d actually considered adopting Trevor himself. Which would have been a mistake, since he didn’t have the time to dedicate to a dog.
Sam also found himself enjoying the McGregor/Carlisle clan way too much. He liked the instant welcome and acceptance he’d received from them. And on Monday and Wednesday he’d actually looked forward to hanging out with Bertie, Alison, and the rest of the seniors.
Sam didn’t recognize himself, and it was highly disturbing. This vacation had been way too long, and it was time to touch base with Colby.
“I would never consider marrying someone who isn’t prepared to have my mother move in with us,” Peter Baker explained earnestly, greedily shoveling a forkful of apple pie into his mouth before continuing to talk. He had a thick black beard, and pieces of pastry kept falling and getting trapped in the hair. In fact, he was quite . . . hirsute. His shirt was unbuttoned at the top, and a thick carpet of hair trailed up from the collar to meet the beard hairs in his neck. That, combined with the mop of overlong hair on his head, gave him a distinctly ursine appearance.
And while some women might find that appealing, Lia imagined what it would be like to kiss him with all that hair on his face. She kept picturing it getting into her mouth and stuck between her teeth. Ugh, what if she swallowed a stray hair? She shuddered and could barely concentrate on what he was saying. Which was probably a blessing, since he hadn’t stopped talking about his mother all evening.
“Do you like cooking?” he suddenly asked, and Lia blinked, tuning back into the conversation. It had been a while since he’d asked her something.
“What?”
“Cooking. Do you cook?”
“Yes. I enjoy it.”
“You should get my mother to give you her chocolate cake recipe. It’s the best. Maybe you can bake a cake for me sometime. But only after you get the recipe from my mother.”
Right. Where was Thandiwe, the waitress, with that check? Lia was about ready to leave.
The Wrong Man (Alpha Men Book 3) Page 23